Melina's Memoirs
by PissyNovelist
Summary: You've heard of the Sierra Madre Casino. We all have. Few have been, even fewer have survived to tell the tale. Courier Six, Melina, comes home with a bag full of gold, wounds infecting her body, and the Madre infecting her mind. Her closest friend and companion wants to help, but first, he has to know what happened to her.
1. Prologue: The Epilogue

**Hi there! Feel free to skip this little beginning section here, but below is a little bit of an anecdote of what this story is and all that author note stuff.**

 **This story is something I've wanted to write for a long time. Writing slipped away from me as I started college, but in order to keep myself sane, I started writing this story long hand. It's been a long time since I've written anything; and an even longer time since I've written something that I'm happy with.**

 **With the Fallout 4 trailer finally released, I've made the choice to tell the story of my Courier Six and a face to face experience with the Sierra Madre. Dead Money was an amazing story for me, and I know for many of you as well, so I hope you enjoy what I have to write and the relationships I create.**

 **I will be updating this story, not exactly on a fit schedule. While I hope to release at a steady pace, my muse for writing Six is an interesting one that comes in waves.**

 **I hope you enjoy what I write! Feel free to let me know if you do!**

The Presidential Suite of the Lucky 38 was humming with quiet chatter. The companions of Courier Six gathered around the dining table, Rex strewn across Veronica's feet.

"She's been gone two week. She's never been gone for two week." Veronica, the ex-Brotherhood girl spoke.

"She's never been gone two weeks without one of us with her." Arcade, occupying his wandering mind with tinkering with the radio, said without lifting his gaze from the arrangement of silver parts.

"She's gotta' be alright. She always is." Rose of Sharon Cassidy kept staring at her bottle of whiskey, quickly pouring another gulp down her throat. She grimaced, but eventually it reached her stomach.

No one dared to ask Boone what he thought on the matter. The sniper remained stoic, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips, cleaning his gun in silence. Boone wasn't a man of many faces, and while no one could tell, even he was worried for little miss Six.

ED-E floated close to the floor, by Rex's side. The robot, as upgraded by Arcade, used old audio logs to communicate with its comrades.

" _THINK POSITIVE / YOU'LL BE FINE, CHAMP! / DON'T BE SAD "_ The audio logs were directed at no one specific, but the whole gang felt a little better. If ED-E could comprehend that it was going to be okay, it had to be okay. For a second, they may have convinced themselves.

The most silent, most upset of them all had to be Raul; the man kissed by radiation, cursing him with immortality and burns that eroded everything that made him a normal human.

"She told me to leave. She told me she'd be fine and I listened. I left her on her own." Raul spoke the first words he had spoken since she had left. He had shocked everyone, watching them all lift their heads to give him a sympathetic look.

When they watched Boone's hand lift from his gun, the stiff appendage giving Raul a lone pat on the shoulder, they knew his pain was real. Boone had a knack for knowing when pain was real.

"It ain't your fault," Cass slide her half-empty whiskey across the table to him ", why don't you check the radio again?"

Raul fiddled with the knobs, but with every notch, a different pitch of static came through.

"The signal went out... four-ish hour ago." Arcade estimated, the pit in his stomach dropping lower and lower. Veronica slammed her head against the table. Cass and Raul kept sliding the bottle back and forth. Rex slept. ED-E remained silent.

Four-ish hours of static and mumbling turned into six hours before their eyes. They had all taken to drinking; Cass had taken liberty upon herself to grab the cleanest, less scratched up bottles of whiskey from her personal collection. Boone had put his rifle away, giving Rex a huge bowl full of Salisbury Steak before sitting down to drink with the rest of the gang.

They talked, but there was still a fog of silence that reigned over them. It was abnormal. Six was the one to get everyone excited; playing strip caravan, dancing to Radio New Vegas, and spending all of her hard-earned caps on The Strip, making sure every single friend of hers had ample amount to spend. It seemed wrong to go ahead and do anything without her. Instead, they recalled stories of other times Six had drove them wild. Their laughs were muffled and meager; the type of laugh someone laughs when they are mourning.

Rex whined, head popping up from the half-eaten meal below his snout. He didn't even take the time to lick his sauce covered jowls; Rex simply stared into the main foyer. Veronica noticed the dog's behavior, pointing at him until the entire gang was watching. Rex's ear's slowly retreated until they were pinned to his head and his snout curled into a mean scowl. He dropped his upper body low to the ground, ready to hunt whatever he seemed to see.

Then, they heard it.

The sound of the elevator climbing up the tower.

No one dared to move. It was like they were anchored to their spots, watching Rex for a sign.

"It's her." Cass was sure; except, she wasn't sure. She was terrified of being not sure.

"They wouldn't just let anyone come up here." Arcade got behind Cass's thought.

"It's her. Or someone coming to tell us she's…" Veronica trailed off. She didn't wish to entertain the thought any longer.

" _Penthouse floor!_ " The odd, chipper robot called out. Rex's bark started out vicious, but didn't take long to settle into something more relaxed. He, much like the others, didn't dare move. He barked and stared. When the gang saw her, it was clear why he didn't jump all over her.

There Six was entering the dining room; huffing from exhaustion and a heavy limp in her leg, all while dragging a packed bag.

She was worse for wear; from head to toe, she was stained with red. It wasn't blood; blood dried to a copper tone. No, she was stained bright red, from her skin to her clothes. A nasty scabbing wound caressed around her neck, the skin around it still looking shiny and tight. Her hair was thinning and the clothes she was wearing were not her clothes. The white jumpsuit was tied around her waist, white muscle shirt torn to reveal more and more cuts and cruises Six must have procured along her journey.

The gang stared at Six.

Six stared at the gang.

Raul went to stand, wanting nothing more than to grab her and hold her, and earn her forgiveness for his choice to leave her. But Six beat him to the punch, making the first bold move.

Six, drenched in sweat and numerous other fluids, used her last ounce of strength to lift her bag onto the dining table. The fixture nearly toppled over on impact, Veronica furrowing her brow at what could possibly be in her bag. Pushing it over, the contents spilled out; first her armour, then some snacks, then… gold. Gold bars and a sea of casino chips fell from her bag and onto the table.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy never laughed harder.

The silence was broken and order seemed to be restored. They emptied her bag to see all the trinkets she had found, chatting with each other, asking Six questions that went unanswered. The only thing the Courier could do was smile; she couldn't remember the last time her friends were ever surprised by something she did.

She let them ogle over her treasures, her friends barely even noticing that she slipped out of the room, only after giving Rex a good scratch behind the ear, of course. When Six was confident she was out of their sight, her hand flew to her hip, applying pressure as she hobbled along to her bedroom. She shut the door and leaned against the wall, wheezing in pain.

Her body burned with every small move she made. The distance from the doorway to her bed was almost too much. When Six fell upon her bed, she nearly passed out right away. But she was nearly two weeks sleep deprived and couldn't rest knowing she was still covered in _that_ stuff.

As she pealed the clothing off her body, she could feel her flesh ripping apart from the fabric. Taking her feet out of her boots offered instant relief from her discomfort, wiggling her dirty toes in the cool air of her home. Six slowly removed every item of clothing except for her shirt; she knew it was going to hurt.

Her arms put up a fight as she lifted them, but quickly forgot the pain in her elbows as she stripped. The wounds on her torso, still bloody and now oozing pus, had glued the shirt to her skin. Six felt tears falling down her face, but she kept ripping the shirt off her body, finally just yanking the item over her head and letting it fall to the floor.

As her back exposed to the air, she felt her muscles and spine set ablaze.

She was terrified to look.

Six grabbed a hand mirror and faced her back to the full-length mirror. Her stomach tossed the instant she saw her back. Deep, wide, and long wounds plagued her back. When she took a deep breath, she could see the textures of muscle and bone. They reminded her of craters, the indentations deep into her flesh; the scars weren't going to be any better.

With a shaky breath out, she grabbed a bottle of vodka off her nightstand. She couldn't leave it dirty if she wanted the stimpaks to work. Taking a large gulp of the pre-war alcohol, she dumped the contents onto her back. Six fell to her knees, screaming into her fist as she collapsed, the pain surging through to her extremities. As she lay there, the endorphins from the pain and her travels dropped. For the first time since leaving for that dreaded place, Six cried.

Six laid on the floor, staring at the wall until her eyes burned and she had to blink. Every time Six blinked, she saw them. Every moment of silence, she heard the whispers. She could hear the cloud.

"Boss?" Raul had knocked, Six was sure, but she didn't hear him. He had entered anyway, some towels and two buckets of water in his hands. Six wiped her tears, but she didn't get up. Raul didn't care that she was bare and Six didn't care that he saw her bare.

The ghoul helped her off the floor and onto her bed. He dipped a rag into a bucket and started cleaning her flesh. The more he washed, the more bruises and cuts were revealed. Six washed her own face, shocked to see she had a black eye and a split lip.

"I don't remember this happening." Six pointed to her face, her tone too passé for Raul's liking.

"I'm sorry I left you." Raul whispered. Six waved her hand at him in a casual way, but didn't respond.

"I feel horrible, Boss."

"We would have been separated anyway." Six said.

"What happened? Why were you gone so long? We were so worried. Boss," Raul gently turned her to him ", I was worried about you. I thought you died."

"Me too."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought I was dead. I _saw_ Hell."

"What happened after I left?" Raul grabbed her shoulders, desperate to get a straight answer.

"Lots of bullshit."

"Melina."

She looked up to him. Raul never used her name; no one ever used her name, but especially not Raul. Melina was better known to everyone as Six or Courier Six; when someone uses her name, it's a sign of need.

"It's funny, really. I saw Hell, I was faced with death. I was beaten and broken. I was lonely ad forced to trust people who wanted to kill me and I wanted to kill them. But something about it… I want to go back. I can hear her calling me. Like a home far away, it calls me."

"What are you talking about? Whose voice?"

"Vera's voice. The voice of the Sierra Madre."

 **It's a tad wordy, but it's been so long since I've been happy with something. The rest of the story is going to be going over how she got to this point. Except some romance, suspense, and my take on the world of the Sierra Madre.**


	2. You've Heard of the Sierra Madre Casino

**I'm happy people want to read this, I've gotten lots of emails telling me people have favorited the story! I hope you enjoy this story, a journey of character and relationships.**

"Nah, when shit pops off, the Ultra Luxe is on its own. They got some weird cannibal operation going on." Melina shook as a wave of disgust fell over, looking back to Raul.

"The masks really creep me out and that's saying a lot, considering what I've seen in my day." The ghoul smirked, catching up to Melina's side.

"You're really showing your age-" Her smile feel from her face as she stopped on a dime, lifting her PipBoy close to her face ", holy shit. I'm getting a new signal."

She hung her bow on her quiver, giving herself a free hand to tap the buttons and twist the knobs on her device. She felt Raul's hand on her shoulder, his breath damp against her cheek. She kept fiddling, moving her arm up and down, and trying to get the signal at full strength. Multiple wave lengths flew across the screen of the PipBoy; her tongue poked from her pale lips, focusing on hitting the sweet spot.

"… _need on opportunity to begin again, join us, let go, and leave the world behind at the Sierra Madre grand opening this October. We'll be waiting."_

The woman on the radio had the voice of a siren. Melina and Raul found themselves hanging on her every word, the wasteland seeming to pause around them. The tumbleweeds stopped blowing, the crows stopped flying, and even the ants stopped their traveling as the woman spoke her promises of a better life.

" _Has your life taken a turn? Do your troubles beset you? Has fortune left you behind? If so, the Sierra Madre Casino, in all its glory, is inviting you to begin again."_

"We _need_ to find this casino." Melina said, eyes fixated upon her PipBoy, the entire package wrapped with a small smirk.

"I've heard of that casino before, Boss. The day it was supposed to open was the day the bombs fell. Some say it's been preserved due to its location. I've heard rumors that it isn't the safest place." If he had eyebrows, they would express worry for the smoothskin.

"And what? It's safe out here?"

"No, Boss, just more dangerous than out here."

"Seems manageable enough! Come Raul, adventure awaits!" Melina fiddled with her PipBoy some more before pointing dramatically to the East; the source of the broadcast.

Raul mumbled disapprovingly, as he so often did, following Melina. She kept looking down at the green blinking arrow upon her PipBoy compass, trudging up the large hills of the East.

"I got a bad feeling about this, Boss. Treasure hunting is something of the old world; a pre-war activity. Finding fortune doesn't translate out here, not now." Raul hoped his old wisdom would deter the sixth courier.

"Well sure. But having bona fide treasure in my suite will really impress the ladies!" She nudged her favorite companion's arm, snorting as she laughed.

"You don't like ladies, Boss." Raul was surprised, but not too surprised. He learned that Melina was a world of interesting facts on her own.

"Sure I do! I don't discriminate against lovin'." She kept laughing, trying to keep the morale high as the kept climbing up and down the peaks.

Silence fell between them, even though there was plenty to say. Melina could feel his eyes prodding into the back of her head. It wasn't often that Raul was adamant that she didn't do something.

"You sure you don't want to go to the casino with me? We'll find some treasure, stock up on some booze, have a real party all around." She managed to speak between large breaths, the pair making their way down a large steeped hill.

"I'm alright, Boss."

"I could use those magic, sharp shooting fingers of yours! Plus that fantastic wit!" He stayed resilient, despite her compliment. He had to hand it to her, though, she knew exactly how to push his buttons.

"It's _risky_ , Boss. I don't think anyone should go."

"Alright, I'll stop askin'. I'll go alone."

"Boss-"

"What? I can handle anything that comes my way!" She strut, pleased as punch at her rough and tumble ways, until she tripped on something buried in the sand and face planted into the dry-baked desert.

"We found it," She said, lifting herself off the ground, looking down upon a bunker entrance ", sure you don't want to come? I'll ask you one last time! Let's get a change of scenery, have some fun instead of wandering this shit hole." She was dusting off the door, twisting the valve; the hatch took some pressure to be opened.

"It isn't a good idea, Boss." Raul hoped she wouldn't go.

"Okay," she huffed, displeased, handing over some of her stuff item by item ", well, take this stuff and head back home to the 38. I'll be back tomorrow, couple days at most." She handed over all weapons, even her beloved bow and arrows, only keeping a hunting rifle and a shit-load of ammo. She unloaded everything except her armor, stims, and chosen weapons, wanting to be as light as possible to haul everything back.

"I'm going to wait for you." Raul had taken a bottle of radiated water Melina had handed over, downing half of it in one gulp. The poor old man felt his bones giving away, but he would follow her anywhere.

"No, no. No need for you to spoil out here in the sun. I'll be home by… Friday, let's say Friday! Feel free to dip into my booze and my rainy day stash, you know the combo to my safe. Hit up the strip, enjoy your vacation." She gave her companion a good pat on the shoulder, then shooed him off. Raul did the same, leaving a fleeting touch upon her arm before turning to make his way back home.

Raul looked back; she did not. Melina was already in the bunker.

She jumped down from the latter, the metallic vibrations bouncing off the walls. When she turned, she was greeted to quite the sight; rusted walls, bloody finger paintings, a staircase and a headless body. Melina furrowed her brow at the text on the wall; shakily smeared on walls in hast ' _I left my heart in the Sierra Madre'_. Plenty of others would have been scared off, but she knows she has seen worse in her time than some half-assed scare tactic.

She walked over to the body, not even perturbed by the bloody mess that sat where his head once sat. In his hand was a bottle, the contents a thick red paste which was not quite liquid or a solid. It simply floated in its glass confines, gentle swirls of brown and red dancing a strange tango. Despite her ignorance of the item, she took it anyway, shoving it in her pocket before making her way down the exposed staircase.

Before her was a hallway, dimly lit and dusty. At the end sat a lone radio of the old world playing the radio broadcast, upon a small table, under a spotlight. Two halls fell off the main way and Melina took a moment to look at her PipBoy; no intruders in her vicinity.

"Ooookay then." Melina pursed her lips, giving the area one more look around. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but this was _not_ it.

Melina walked forward, slow and cautious, but she kept going. The siren's voice amplified with every footstep. Was it all bullshit? Melina was growing unhappy as she kept going. Sierra Madre my ass.

She reached the doorway to the main hub, giving the sleeping quarters of the bunker a once over. No way in, no way out, and no one there. Just that lone radio on the table, under the grotesque, yellow spot light. Melina took one more step forward, her hand in mid-reach to flick off the radio and her boot hit the ground.

Suddenly, in a violent flash, a burst of gas descended from the roof. She gasped, allowing the offending substance into her lungs. It worked on her immediately; Melina fell to her knees as she coughed, small spatters of blood falling onto the floor. She tried to crawl out, but the drugs took effect quicker than she could have expected. She fell onto the floor, using her last ounce of energy to flip onto her back. Her vision blurred, but Melina swore she heard footsteps around her.

Rough, large hands clasped her ankles, dragging her somewhere. The footsteps were real and she was being taken somewhere. Melina wasn't sure of anything, disoriented and weakened by the gas. She did her best to relax the rest of her functions, focusing all of her energy to measuring how long she was being dragged in one direction and every turn they took. However, it wasn't long until her consciousness faded from her. Melina allowed it to happen, giving into the effects, hoping to get some good rest in her drugged state.

She knew she would need all the rest she could get.


End file.
